


Ocean and Atlantic

by AwkwardVeganChick



Category: Mayday Parade (Band), Ocean and Atlantic
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9061885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardVeganChick/pseuds/AwkwardVeganChick
Summary: A short story based off of Ocean and Atlantic by Mayday Parade that I did for my creative writing class.





	

Jessie’s POV  
It’s been nearly three years. You’d think that’d be a lot of time for growth and improvement, but frankly, it just allowed me more time to lose myself. I fell into a haze of neon bar signs and pulling the covers over my head when the light hits my face through my dusty window. I’m tired of being like this. Lost. A city full of background noise became all too comfortable to me. My dad left when my mom died, and started traveling around the world in hopes to find the pieces of him that she took with her. He promised me jewels, and songs from where my mom grew up when he returned but I don’t think he can stand seeing me. I look far too much like my mom, and if he came back to see what a failure I’ve become, he’d never speak to me again. 

I’m not my mom. I’m not the pretty girl with the voice of an angel. I’m a street performer who’s only alive because I live in an apartment that my dad pays for. Sure, I’ve had posters of myself all over this town, but in time they all slid down the telephone posts and coffee shop windows and are now probably being used in a bird’s nest somewhere. And I’m not the only one out there. There’re millions like me. It’s not hard to sing, it’s hard to make a name for yourself amongst the others that are better than you. It’s easier to just forget yourself in cheap spirits and hope that one day your voice will be heard on the radio. Then again… Even hoping is hard these days. The last time I had hope was when the lead singer from a little band from Florida twisted his fingers around mine and pulled me on stage to perform the song they had heard me sing before they jumped up there. His lopsided smile assured me that we could do this, even though this was completely unplanned. And we did. The applause was astounding. I thanked him later and he handed me his number.

“Derek” he grinned, “I’m Derek.” I remember folding the thin slip of paper and putting it into the pocket of my jean.

“Jessie. Thank you for what you did up there, that was fantastic.” I reached for his hand but he pulled me into an awkward side hug instead.

“Sorry, I don’t do handshakes. You might think I’m weird but it typically leaves more of an impression on people. You’ve got to be different to make it big.” He laughed slightly and his kind eyes beamed.

“I suppose that’s true.”

I don’t remember the rest of our conversation besides him telling me to give him a ring later, and I promised him I would. However, I managed to lose the paper before I even got out the bar door. I searched for them for days. The entire band. I asked the bartenders. They said they had no name yet, and all they knew was all I knew. The lead singer’s name was Derek and they were from Florida. I broke down that week. 

I need to get away from this town. I finally thought I had something, but this entire place is against me. I need to run as far away as possible. I wonder if Derek remembers me. If they’re waiting for me to make it big in this town, but I’ll never make a sound. I wonder if the idea of the girl named Jessie keeps him up at night. Probably not. I’m just a ghost to him. The way he pulled me so effortlessly up to the wooden platform felt like it was repetitive, like he had done it a million times. There’s probably five other Jessie's’ he knows. 

Derek’s POV  
I let that night get to me far more than it should’ve. All I did was sing with her. But the way her wavy hair bounced when she moved, and her green eyes shimmered in the neon moon sign felt like I was writing songs at three in the morning on four cups of coffee. Every line excited me. I could feel her determination to get this perfect, and she was nailing every word. But she never called me back. I still think of this from time to time. Did my abrupt side hug make her think I was too weird to talk to? Was my hair too messy? Clothes too baggy? It made my heart feel flat and thin. Like paper. And oh boy, she had taken scissors to it. It had been torn many times before, but this was a whole new depth. I need this girl. I barely know who she is, but I need her. She could be the place I call home, and I’d never thought I’d say that because for the past two years touring, all I ever needed was a place to sleep.

I’ve got to go back. I need to see her face again. She hasn’t made a sound. This ghost with eyes like sunlight beaming through tree leaves is enough to keep my mind running all night. I might run all night if it takes me to her.

Jessie’s POV  
It’s been months. I’ve searched Florida, only to be left with one question-

“Derek, what do you want for breakfast?”


End file.
